


A night sky of shadow and flame

by Satirre



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending, Choking, Fluff, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Valinor, Mentions of the Seduction of Mairon, Pet Names, Power Bottom Mairon, Power Dynamics, Sauron enters the void to save his boyfriend, Sauron wins the war, Smut, Throne Sex, so many pet names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satirre/pseuds/Satirre
Summary: "I love you, my precious." A voice echoed inside Sauron's head, the Ring purred. "More than I hate the barefaced hypocrisy of the Valar, more than I hate their deceptive speeches and false morals, their dull creations and lifeless halls. More than I hate Iluvatar's monotonous music and his symmetric, predictable design of the world. Still more than I despise the nothingness of the Void and more than I've desired the Silmarills, I love you. My burning flame, fair and lethal. There is nothing I feel more, I promise you new worlds, a place deserted for you to set on fire. I promise you all you ask for."
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 12
Kudos: 111





	A night sky of shadow and flame

Sauron had won. The middle earth was taken by shadow and destruction, Frodo and Sam had been captured on the way of their hopeless mission, and The One Ring had returned to its master. 

Unbound, the Dark Lord had taken one of his earliest forms, the one he used when he fought aside Morgoth, not aside, no, for Morgoth. The true Dark Lord, ancient and greater than any living, He who had showed him the truth, taught him the ways of the darkness and rose rebellion in his heart. He who rescued him from his meaningless existence, unfulfilling bond to Aulë and fed the wildest desires of his heart. He who didn't wince at the sight of his broken, twisted mind, but understood it, completed it, prized it. 

That was when he was most happy, he thought. Kneeling before his Master, his Lord, his God. Basking on the sheer power of his presence, telling him about their progress, watching dark eyes glisten with pride. Serving him: on the battlefields, wielding a sword stained with elven blood. In the forges, creating weapons of destruction and twisting Aulë’s teachings. On his, _their_ bed, pliable under him, hot with the fire of his _feä_ , whispering His name in reverence. 

And now that he had everything, the entire world and all that lived in it, his own throne and palace of dark, sharp rock: all that they had dreamed of, he felt empty. 

Before he could occupy his mind with all the work to be done, the sheer fight for his life, his existence, the One Ring, the preparations for the war, and then the shadow he should cast above middle earth, how to bend and break all people, create more orcs, expand his army, fulfill all He had envisioned. 

But now that all as done, he couldn't distract himself from the lingering feeling in his chest, that terrible, draining pain, of _grief_. He missed Melkor so much, and no amount of power could erase that. All he had done was worthless if He could not see it, if He didn't smile upon him and praised him for his efforts. He needed his Vala, so desperately he could barely bear it, at times. It had started to take its toll on him, now that he was left alone with his thoughts. He needed Melkor up in his throne, speaking of ambitious plans, he needed Melkor filling his head with sweet, doubtful promises, needed Melkor smiling wickedly after seeing him torture a prisoner, all stained of blood and smelling of death. Needed Melkor tugging at his hair, teeth biting deep into his skin, needed Melkor growling on his ear, hands black and cold and harsh astray all over his body. Needed Melkor punishing him, torturing him, he _needed_. 

So, he set to work to find a solution, even if it seemed impossible, as he always did. 

Long he studied the Void, seeking old books that he took from the scrolls of Rivendell, Mirkwood and Lothlórien, and he found little more than flowery myths that explained nothing. He then sought what was left of Saruman's writings, hidden away from Isengard, and he found something to work with. 

After years of expanding theory, he started to practice on opening a portal to the Void, and much he destroyed, until he was successful in controlling it and keeping it from devouring the earth around it.  
When he did it, alone in a deserted field, a tear of black ripped the air, he entered it eagerly, it was darker than anything he had ever seen, and no sound could be heard. Still he walked, and walked, and walked, and when he felt his hope and his power begin to falter, he saw Him: 

Bound with shackles of dark, His feet gone and His body mutilated, a shadow of what He once was, staring into the Void expressionless. Sauron felt a deep, searing rage take over his core, and cursed the Valar under his breath, though no sound came out. 

So, he walked to Him, to his Lord, and touched his face softly, and Morgoth looked at him, eyes red and black glowing in the dark.  
His mouth moved, and the Maia watched it repeat that name it once spoke so frequently, to him. 

_Mairon._

Admirable. 

He used the ring to destroy darkness with angry fire, burning Morgoth's black hands in the process, and the void resisted, but so strong was the fire of Marion's soul that it came undone, for his heart was filled with rage and love so fierce no matter could endure. 

And so Morgoth was free, but He was burnt and still could not walk, so Mairon took His hand onto his ringed own, and through the powers of the One Ring and the fire and Aulë's creative blessing, he sang a new form to Morgoth. Exactly as the one He took when He faced Ungoliant, still unharmed by sword, jewels or fire. 

Morgoth arose to His feet, looked at Sauron with such intensity the Void quivered, and took his hand, kissing the Ring. The Maia kneeled down, tears streaming down his face, and felt a hand pet his hair sweetly. Above him, Morgoth said something, but he could not interpret it. He stood up and led them out. 

Outside that parallel, empty existence, the shadow laid upon Middle Earth grew, darkened and thickened. Drowning and blinding.

He was exhausted by the time he closed the portal, leaning on Morgoth for support, the Vala brought his arms around him, and Sauron hugged him back. 

"Mairon, Mairon." He purred, a hand tracing the path of his spine. "You do not bow to me anymore, my _precious_." 

Mairon shuddered, tears still falling as he finally heard his Master's voice. 

"I would bow for You even if I had all the Valar under my will, Master." 

"Oh, but you have, My burning flame, one of them, at least. 

And so, Sauron led Him to his fortress, his palace that went miles underground, but pointed up like hills sharp. And he announced to the guards, soldiers and people: orcs and men, that the Dark Lord had returned, to bring forth glory and power to His allies, and all kneeled in fear, but screamed in glee, and Sauron enticed the chanting of His name, over and over again. _"All hail Morgoth."_ Amidst the servants kneeled and the victory of that moment, Morgoth looked at him, so proud and wicked that Sauron felt he would burn the entire world once more, just to make Him proud. 

He showed Him the inside of the palace instead, the walls were tall, all was black with touches of red, and the floor was Obsidian, reflecting dark. He explained the underground system to Him, how he ensured it to be safe and basically indestructible, how the forges worked and how many there were. He told Him what he had done with Middle Earth, how he had managed the people, all aligned with their initial plans, so long ago. And, at the end, Sauron took Morgoth to the throne room, designed to be imposing and frightening. He remembered, when he was creating this, how he imagined his Master sitting up in that throne, instead of himself. It felt wrong, even when he was ruler of Middle Earth, to take that place who should've been Melkor's. So, he took him by hand towards it, offering it to Him, and Morgoth followed. Sauron gasped and shuddered at the sight. 

He looked like a God, face perfectly cruel, His body adjusting to it like He was meant to be there all along, like a flawless statue carved from crude rock, edged and alluring. Contradicting what Melkor had said, he kneeled again, face low. Sauron remembered what He had told him, when they were still in Valinor, and he was still a servant to Aulë.

> He felt broken, wrong, for he was never satisfied with serving his Master, he wanted more, more than what his role was. He desired to create and destroy, to shape earth into new, never seen things. And it was wrong. He was wrong. A Maia's purpose was to serve, so why did he feel so unsatisfied obeying Aulë, when all of his Kin were radiant with joy?  
>  Melkor was ever present, lurking in his forges, whispering words of encouragement and curiosity on his ear, the reassurance he so desperately sought. He asked daring, bold questions, that sent the deviants thoughts in his head alight. And in His icy blue eyes was a challenge, a riddle Mairon was too afraid to solve.
> 
> Eventually, he trusted Melkor enough and hated himself too much that he started to vent to Him, to ask Him questions and answer His with honesty. Melkor's answers were like a sea of relief, washing over him and freeing him of all guilt and feeling of misplacement. He purred them, they became darker yet sweeter with time, and the corruption on his soul that was the cause of such guilt and terror, turned into burning rebellion and lust. 
> 
> "You think yourself broken." He had said in the forges one day, they were alone, all Maiar gone to rest. "For the restlessness of your soul in serving." He cornered him like a beast upon their prey, and Mairon felt something flutter in his stomach. "But have you not wondered, Dear Mairon, that the issue may not lay with you?" He frowned, as hypocritical as it was, he didn't like the idea of badmouthing Aulë. But Melkor continued before he had a chance to answer. "Now, I beg of you not to misunderstand me, what I mean is..." He paused, getting closer, the Maia involuntarily stepped back. "You think yourself incapable of serving, yet I see in you: your eyes, your posture, the most loyal of lieges. I just think, Mairon, that akin your fellow Maiar, you cannot serve blindly. You need a reason for your submission, whether it be an ideal or a strong hand." The smith's back hit the wall, and Melkor towered over him, closer than appropriate, he felt hot, like the fire of his _feä_ might consume his _fäna_ in seconds. "If provided with that." One big, cold hand touched Marion's neck, he shivered. "You would throw yourself on the ground, kneeling, eager to serve and please." He closed His hand, putting pressure until the Maia was struggling to breathe. "You would do as you're told, my little spark, and you'd love it. As you should, as it is your right." 
> 
> By the time He released him, Mairon was gasping for air, face flushed and trembling from head to toe. He imagined himself kneeled before the Vala, and shivered. 
> 
> "Melkor." He said, and how dirty he felt as he uttered the word with more admiration than he had ever used to call Aulë's name. Something stirred inside him, and He must have noticed it, for a crooked, filthy smiled creeped up His lips. "Melkor." He whispered again, begging for something. What, he didn't know for sure. 
> 
> But a thumb touched his lower lip, and he all but moaned. Melkor hissed at the heat, but pressed inward, scraping over his teeth and tongue. Mairon licked it, dizzy and lightheaded, and like a fleeting dream, it was over. 
> 
> The Vala moved away with prenatural speed, His cold touch lingering on Mairon's blazing skin, causing the Maia to nearly fall over. Melkor spared him a glance before He left, filled with lust and tease. 

How right Melkor had been, he thought, for now that he had the entire world under his command, now that all people kneeled to him and abided by his will, still all he wanted was to please his Vala. All he had done was for Him. And he was proud. Of himself, of them. Long and exhausting was their journey, filled with failures and heartbreak, but as he kneeled before his King, in their castle, in His world, all was worth it. They had made it, and the spark in his chest was flaming with victory. He smiled. 

"Come here, Mairon." Morgoth whispered, and the Maia stood up in a jolt, pleased to obey Him once more. He arose from His throne, hand caressing Sauron's cheek, the smaller one shamelessly leaning into the touch. Cold lips met his own, blazing ones, and Sauron smiled. _They were victorious._ Morgoth took his hand, fingers brushing The Ring, and It whispered back. He could take It, Sauron thought. He could disembody him once more, destroy his body and soul, and still he would be happy, he would die and disappear blissfully if it meant to fulfill his Master's desires. 

But Melkor didn't, instead he tangled their hands and intertwined their _feäs_ , His freezing, divine song licking and corrupting Marion's burning, scorching one. Evaporating, infiltrating, creating a music of their own, the Vala's chaos joining with the Maia's desire for order, and they were invincible, there. All the Valar could enter that room, Manwë with his stupid eagles, Oromë screaming riding Nahar, axe in hand, and all their power would pale compared to them. They could call Eru Himself, desperate, and still they would sing harder, more intensely and divine than the music that created the world. This was what they were meant to be, powerful, indestructible and terribly deadly. They could burst Middle Earth in flames and spread its ashes on Valinor, Sauron laughed, harder than he ever had. Bitter and menacing. Around them winds roared, the earth shivered and Mount Doom spat out fire. 

Morgoth took his ringed hand and touched their foreheads, and something was created, though Sauron could not see it yet. 

Slowly, the Vala separated their feäs, the sharp cold releasing the untamed flames, the world around them stopped trembling, and it all came to a halt. They were tired, Sauron left quivering and drained, and he kissed Him. Fiercely, all the searing, maddening love and submission he poured into that kiss, along with the eras of lost and grief, all the irrational, unfair anger he felt for being left alone. It tasted of blood, sweat and victory. He held Him as if He could disappear at any moment, as if this could be one of the many dreams that jolted him awake, crying and out of breath, and Morgoth reciprocated. Not just the kiss, His hands dug deep into Sauron's skin, pulling him impossibly close, but they trembled. He was scared, all those years, alone and cold engulfed in the Void, feeling nothing but the bitter taste of defeat and the hurt of His wounds. He allowed Himself to be vulnerable, allowed tears to fall down His face, from pride and aching. 

"I love you, my precious." A voice echoed inside Sauron's head, the Ring purred. "More than I hate the barefaced hypocrisy of the Valar, more than I hate their deceptive speeches and false morals, their dull creations and lifeless halls. More than I hate Iluvatar's monotonous music and his symmetric, predictable design of the world. Still more than I despise the nothingness of the Void and more than I've desired the Silmarills, I love you. My burning flame, fair and lethal. There is nothing I feel more, I promise you new worlds, a place deserted for you to set on fire. I promise you all you ask for." 

Sauron was sobbing, head buried in Morgoth's shoulder. "All I ask is to be by Your side, my Lord, serving You to the end. That's all I've ever wanted." 

And then Morgoth stepped back, allowing the Maia to see before him, and he gasped. 

Beside the throne he had made, was another one, built with dark rock that grew from the ground, unpolished and filled with sharp edges. It was ethereal obsidian, the lava that burned from Sauron's _feä_ cooled down sharply by Morgoth's spirit. It glowed with a prenatural darkness, a black fire surrounding it, burning the most at the top, as a crown of flames. 

"Would you rule Middle Earth with me, Mairon?" He asked, and Sauron thought he would die, burst into nothingness there and then, but he didn't. Instead he threw himself onto Morgoth, laughing carelessly. "Yes." He said, out of breath and delirious. 

"How powerful we will be, precious. These thrones challenge the ones in Valinor. Our dragons shall fly higher than the Thorondor, your flames shall burn brighter than the stars." 

"I will make You a ring, my Lord, more powerful than the One, and Eru himself will shudder." 

"Such an ambitious spirit, I've missed it." His voice drawled, and Sauron felt a pool of heat center at his lower belly. He missed this, how many times had he woke up sweaty and aching hard, panting from a hot, deliciously filthy dream, screaming his Master's name to no answer? A slave to the pleasures this physical form offered, bound the wonders He had taught him. But he was not tied to memory now, Morgoth stood before him, mercilessly beautiful and powerful, and Sauron didn't intend on wasting any more time. 

"Master." He whimpered, the slits of his eyes expanding with desire, and a big, strong hand tangled his red hair, pulling it to reveal his neck. 

Sharp teeth dug into the sensitive skin, drawing blood, biting and scraping, just to lick it away, kiss it, and Morgoth hummed against his throat. 

"My Lord, the chambers-" 

But the Vala was already unclasping his armor, metal hitting the ground loudly, tearing away the robes beneath it to reveal the skin of his shoulder, his chest, his torso. 

Sauron found himself leaning in, sparks of pleasure and anticipation bolting from the cold touches directly to his crotch. Eru, it was ridiculous how needy he was already. He started to fumble with Morgoth's armor, tearing it down impatiently. Melting, pulling and ripping. He could build Him a new one. 

A voice in the back of his head that still maintained some sort of reason, remembered him that they were on the throne room, that anyone could enter at any second, but at that exact moment, Morgoth pulled him roughly by the hair, sitting in the throne they had built together, the stone cold as ice, but the black flames burned scorching hot. Sauron fell on His lap, straddling Him, and felt His erection hard as rock pressing against his own, and whatever sanity he had left was drowned by the wave of eagerness and lust that washed over him. Mindlessly, he at least conjured a silencing spell, and an illusion that made it look like there was no door to enter the room. 

Morgoth growled, and held his hips strong enough to bruise, pulling him down, Sauron rocked on His lap, moaning into His mouth at the friction. He felt the muscles of the Vala's torso, divine, like a marble sculpture, cold and hard, and reached lower, short nails scraping at His stomach, His lower belly and the perfect V shape that led down, down to the waistband of His pants. He slipped his hand under the clothing, freeing Melkor's cock, sliding up and down, brushing his thumb over the head. He moaned low on his ear, voice rasp and metallic, and bit down on his shoulder, drawing yet more blood. 

Sauron eyed his Master's length and whimpered, mouthwatering. Feeling his cheeks flush with heat at the knowledge that he caused this, that his Master ached for him as well. He climbed off His lap, kneeling on the ground, and finished taking off His clothing, tearing the armor and pants so desperately that Morgoth chuckled. He felt the Vala's thighs, touching them in adoration, and kissed the inside of them, open mouthed and messy, leaving a tray of saliva and bite marks leading up, the Maia took His balls in his hands, toying with them and feeling the great Vala shudder under his touch. Patience, however, had never been Morgoth's strength, and He pulled Sauron's hair up, expression demanding and authoritarian. The Maia obeyed immediately, licking a stripe over the length, placing a chaste _(oh, the irony)_ kiss on the head. Just his Master taste was almost enough for him to come, he inhaled deeply, feeling His smell, and took Him all into his mouth, surrounding the member with his tongue and hollowing his cheeks, ignoring his gag reflex and opening his throat for Him. Tears formed on the corners of his eyes, and Morgoth moaned, low and long. He wanted Him to be rough, to fuck his mouth harshly until he could barely breathe, but the Vala seemed content just watching Sauron bobbing his head up and down, red-eyed and making little sounds around His cock. 

"Look at you." He snarled, and shot His vision into Sauron's head, he looked like a whore, sweat dripping from his forehead where strands of red, wild hair clung, the corners of his mouth wet with saliva and pre-cum, his pupils totally round with lust, tears staining his flushed cheeks. Swallowing his Master's cock as if needed it to survive. 

_I look good._ He thought, shameless, and Morgoth must have heard it, judging by the twisted, mocking smile on His face. A hand pulled his head up, and he released the erection with a loud pop sound. Morgoth grunted, dragging him to His lap again, ridding him off of his pants not so graciously, and tugging him closer, slipping His tongue inside his mouth and kissing him fiercely, tasting His own pre-cum. He pulled away, just to slip two fingers in the Maia's mouth, scraping teeth and tongue, and Sauron immediately started to lick them, such them as he had his Lord's cock. 

At the same time, the smaller one readjusted on Morgoth's lap, placing his entrance on the head of the Vala's cock, rocking around it, and his loud, shameless moan was cut off by a hand around his neck, squeezing it roughly. Sauron squirmed, but didn't stop teasing, licking the fingers in his mouth and wiggling around the erection. His own length ached, untouched and leaking, but he didn't dare to grab it, not without his Master's permission. And said Master didn't look too pleased, the grasp around his neck pressed harder, until the corners of Sauron's vision were dark and he was lightheaded. Still he didn't stop. He wanted it hard, rough and if it he had to piss the Vala off to get it, so be it. Morgoth withdrew the fingers off his mouth, and unceremoniously shoved them into the Maia's hole, digging inside him, curling and twisting. Mairon squeaked under his grasp. _Yes, that's it._ A desperate voice echoed in his head. 

Morgoth lifted one eyebrow, He had understood what His little spark wanted, He was just not willing to give it to him so easily. 

He scissored him, reaching deeper and angling His fingers just right, into that spot- 

"Ah!" Sauron gasped; voice constricted by his grasp. It was muscle memory. 

He released the Maia's neck, hearing him heave, and lowered His head to nibble at the little one's nipples, licking, twisting and biting, all while fucking him with His fingers, adding a third one. His sweet Mairon rocked back down to meet them, spreading his legs wider and licking His neck. 

"Master, please." He whimpered, and Morgoth felt a suffocating sense of power. This fierce, mighty creature that had the whole world to himself, that defeated armies of men, elves and dwarves, this untamed flame begged for Him. He would crawl on the ground if asked to, kneeling and pleading, pliable and willingly to do anything He asked. The thought went straight to His cock, twitching. 

"Please what?" He groaned, scratching the skin of his lower belly, feeling him quiver. "How will I know what you want if you can't even explain it, Mairon? Use your words." 

The Maia grunted, impatient, biting His shoulder in exasperation. Unsatisfied with the attitude, Morgoth dug His fingers deep, and added a fourth one. A twisted thought surged up in His head, and He smiled maniacally. 

"What a sight." He started before Sauron could answer the first question. "Would it be, if one of your soldiers wandered off into this room, huh?" The Maia hissed. "To see his mighty Lord, the powerful and stout Sauron, King of all Middle Earth, reduced to a shuddering, sweating mess, fucking his pretty ass into his Master's fingers, cock leaking and ready to come untouched, legs spread wide like a whore." Sauron moaned so obscenely he thought it wouldn't be necessary to see a thing to assume him a whore. Maybe he was. "So, will you tell me what you want, or shall I assume that you'd like to act upon this fantasy, and conjure an innocent slave into the room?" 

Sauron gasped for air, trying to catch his breath enough to talk. 

"I want You to take me, Master. I need You inside me, I need Your cock, please. Just fuck me. Please, ple-" Morgoth growled, withdrawing His fingers. The Maia whined, but he soon felt the head of Melkor's cock in his hole, and unceremoniously impaled himself into the length, feeling the sharp pain take over, and absolutely loving it. The Vala moaned shakily and kissed him deeply. It felt so good to be filled with his Master again, that Sauron let out a sob. Morgoth hugged him, drawing him close before he started to move, and the Maia quickly followed. First rocking back and forth slowly, but he soon adjusted and started to ride the Vala shamelessly, moving his hips so lewdly he blushed, and a luscious smile crept upon Morgoth's stunning face, like a predator baring its teeth at a pray. He held the Maia's hips, helping him, angling him so His cock hit that point inside him in each thrust. Sauron screamed, crying unintelligible pleads and curses, and threw his head back, leaving passage for Morgoth to mark him once again, this time on his Adam's apple. The Vala groaned at how hot he felt, so much it hurt. 

"Master." He cried, and Morgoth decided to show mercy, for a change, taking his leaking, aching erection in His hand, stroking it the way He knew His Maia liked. 

Said Maia squirmed above Him, clenching Morgoth's cock inside himself and tensing his pretty thighs, and the Vala nearly came at the sensation, shuddering and breathing his name. 

"Mairon." Sauron smiled deliriously, doing it again, and again, squeezing his Master's cock, concentrating his _feä_ to heat his entrance up, and Morgoth was the one to wriggle then, eyes going out of focus, the hand on his cock fastening and tightening. 

Sauron brought his own blazing hand to his Lord's neck, choking Him with pressure and warmth, and fastened the rhythm of his hips, harder, crushing His neck, burning the shape of his fingers around it, nibbling His nipples with his other hand. 

He could feel the sounds Morgoth made vibrating on his hand, unable to leave His mouth, under him the Vala squirmed, back arching against the cold stone of the throne. 

_"Mine."_ Sauron hissed, the hand on his hip helping him to go harder, the fire of his soul spilling onto his _fäna_ , tears formed at the corners of Morgoth's eyes. "You are mine. As I am yours. Your soul, Your body, Your world. _Mine_. Say it." He was delirious, the black flames of the throne joined his own, orange ones. It was too hot even for him. The Vala looked ready to melt. Sauron loosened the grip around His neck slightly, just so He could speak. 

"Yours, all yours, my precious flame, Yours to adore and obey, Yours to burn and melt. No one else's." 

The Maia kissed Him, hard, messy, and Morgoth released his cock to grip hard at his hips, thrusting into him so hard Sauron thought he could break in half. They moaned into each other's mouths, the flames around them licked at their flesh, Sauron touched his own shaft, feeling like he would faint. 

Morgoth's length struck his prostate with every thrust, and with every thrust he moaned, cried His name with a broken, breathy voice. Screamed it, whined it, sang it. 

"My Master, my Vala, my God. Melkor." He whispered, sobbed, called. "Look into my mind." 

And He looked, and there was fire. A world of ashes, all their desires. The dreams that made him wake up humping the bed, whispering His name in the dark. Their first time, and all the others after. Scenes of victorious battles merged with the lewd ones. The blood of their enemies forming a pool, him telling Aulë, proudly and smiling, that he was not his master. _"My Master is Melkor. Being tied to you was nothing but a mistake. I have found my Lord, dark and mighty, and I shall be His, no one else's."_ Every one of his bold, dirty fantasies, and in all of them was Morgoth. Fucking him, punishing him, torturing him, prizing him. Every time he called His name, in pleasure, pain, adoration, it all ringed into the Vala's head, as the flames drew closer and burnt His new skin, as His lover's fingers crushed His neck mercilessly, as His cock throbbed inside those scorching, tight walls, He opened his eyes. And before Him was perfection. Eyes black and red, half lidded and looking straight into His own, face flushed, slicked with sweat, lips red and swollen, opened, releasing the most delicious sounds, _drooling_ for Him. Hair so wild it looked like fire, he was divinity corrupted, and it was _perfect._

Morgoth came, moaning loudly, never breaking eye contact with His Maia, and watched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he came immediately after. He fucked him through it, filling him with His seed as Sauron screamed, sobbed, shivered, spilling over His stomach and chest, and Morgoth had to use His power to keep the flames from burning them alive. 

When Sauron finally stopped coming, he dropped his head on his Master's shoulder and laid limp, unable to move a muscle. They stayed there for a while, Morgoth mindlessly stroking his hair. 

"Do You think someone noticed it?" Sauron whispered, voice thin and broke. 

"No, I reinforced the spell, don't worry." He answered, kissing the top of his head. "Only I can see you undone, My flame." 

Sauron smiled, pliant as Morgoth lifted him. 

"Show me where your chambers are?" He asked. 

"Ours." He muttered, guiding Him with his mind, and the Vala held him closer. 

Morgoth turned them both into shapeless clouds of dark, and followed the path Sauron had showed Him. He lowered the Maia onto the silken, black sheets gently, disappeared into the washing room and came back with a wet cloth in hands, which He used to sweetly clean the cum, blood and sweat from Sauron's body. The Maia made to sit up and return the favor, but Morgoth stopped him. "Shh, this is not about Me." 

Sauron was taken over by fondness and love, watching that dangerous, ancient, mighty God tend to him like he was _precious_. Watching those hands that had killed thousands, yielding a sword or bare, linger on his skin with soft, ghosting touches. Watching those eyes, made to intimidate, black sclera and red irises, melting when looking at him, filled with tenderness and care. 

His chest felt tight, he pulled Him onto the bed, pecking at His lips. 

Morgoth pulled him to lay correctly on the bed, resting his head on His chest. 

"I missed You." He murmured, wanting to cry but too exhausted to do so. 

"I missed you too, precious, more than you could imagine, but let us not remember the aches of the past now that the future shines brightly ahead." 

And with that Sauron fell into a blissful sleep, feeling a hand pet his hair and listening to the steady heartbeat of his Lord.

**Author's Note:**

> Oof this is the first fanfiction i wrote in English, and my first time posting here! I just finished The Silmarillion and i'm obsessed with this ship. I hope this wasn't too terrible. Constructive criticism is very welcomed!


End file.
